Flowers
by 02AngelBaby75
Summary: A small drabble on the Station Inspector and his troubles.
1. Chapter 1

Every day his first thought is, _Flowers_.

It isn't something most people spend a lot of time thinking about, unless they were, say, a florist. Which, of course, he isn't. Rather, he is fulfilling his lifelong dream, or something close to it, working as the Station Inspector at a busy Paris train station, Gare Montparnasse. Not exactly what Mother and Father had in mind, but nonetheless, an important job which Gustav takes seriously. _Very. Seriously_.

So one would think, dearest readers, that a quite mundane aspect of life, such as flowers, would occupy any space in Gustav's mind at all. It seems for the longest time his thoughts have mostly consisted of, _Trains, trains, trains_. Trains. People come here to get on them, and then to get off them. That's all. The only thing Gustav has to do is make sure this business runs smoothly. And for the most part, it does.

However, lately, he has become-dare I say it-distracted.

Indeed, he has become distracted by flowers.

Well, not so much the flowers themselves, but the one who is selling them. There she will be, day after day, smiling pleasantly at the little old ladies who buy a bouquet on a whim, and then she will smile almost wistfully at the men who buy roses for their loves.

At one time Gustav considered perhaps buying her some roses somewhere else, because after all that would be the gentlemanly thing to do. He actually had the money in his hands and was about to say, "The red ones, please, they appear to be the smelliest," when he realized, _Why would she want something she already has_? And there that brilliant idea went.

Ever since then, Gustav has hardly worked up the nerve to even look at her. By this point, 'paranoid' would be a good word to describe him. Gustav is slightly paranoid by nature, which he sort of has to be in order to perform his work properly. But now it's _her_ that's making him paranoid, _her_ that's making him constantly glance over his shoulder, and to even doubt his instincts that there's indeed a little thief in this vicinity stealing a croissant at _this very moment_.

The other day, for example, Gustav was once again engaged in a frenzied pursuit of a slimy child, who had stolen a man's wallet, when he happened to dash _right past her_. It was like time stopped then and next thing he knew Gustav was flat on his face on the shiny floor. As expected, though, he did end up catching the thief and returning the poor man's wallet. But what bothered him was not the fact that he had tripped, for that happened often but he always got the job done, but it was the _reason_ he tripped. _She _made him do it.

And yet this almost made him happy. While he was back on his feet in moments, the two of them had locked eyes and he had plainly heard the gasp escape her lips at his little, 'accident.' He felt a strange sense of pride in that she had noticed him, that she was concerned for his well-being. Gustav will never forget that look, her eyes widening in wonderment and an almost motherly manner in which she threw her hand over her mouth in shock.

Yes, Gustav is most definitely distracted.


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, he always has Maximilian.

Gustav has had the dog since he was a puppy, a tiny, shivery little thing. His eyes were wide, black, and melancholy. A small girl and her mother were on a street corner trying to be rid of the last puppy, which was rolling around like adorable puppies do in a cardboard box. He never meant to take Max; it was definitely one of Gustav's odd moments where he experienced a lapse in judgement, giving in to the cuteness. Honestly, how could anyone with a heart say no to _that_?

"How much?" Gustav asked as he held the puppy that playfully licked at his nose.

"Just take him," the woman said, waving her hand. "He's a troublemaker."

"Thank you's," and, "Good days," were exchanged. The lady was quite nice, actually. Her hair was long and blonde, her eyes a clear blue. She did not smile. At least, the smile was insincere. It did not reach her eyes. She reminded him of someone in his past, someone almost completely forgotten by this point. Gustav wanted to talk a little longer, for he had been so lonely for so long. Even just a small chat on the subject of something as trivial as the weather would suffice. Anything, _anything _would be fine with him. Alas, it was clear the woman was in no mood for socialness.

He only wanted companionship. He wanted one friend.

Maximilian was a very sweet puppy; big of heart, yet dim of wit. The moment Gustav brought him home, the silly thing began running into walls. He was so excited he couldn't control himself, it seemed. All this energy, contained inside of this little body. It made the veteran smile with sincerity; he would get this fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Before Gustav had named him, he simply referred to Maximilian as either _Puppy_ or, the odd time, _Dog Child_. That is what he was, after all. "Maximilian, come here," he would say, and after a ridiculous amount of practice, Max would listen. Gustav was unsure of where he discovered the name _Maximilian_, but all he knew was that he liked it. And if his puppy liked it as well, than Maximilian it would be.

To Gustav, the wonder of creation quite suddenly appeared rather fascinating. It was a joy watching little Max grow up. It made him laugh when the dog barked at the sound of the kettle boiling each afternoon when Gustav drank his daily tea; it made him think incredibly hard when Max snuggled with him as to why animals are in some ways, kinder than humans. It made him frown when Maximilian ripped up pillows and chewed on his shoes that he _had just shined_, thank you very much.

Despite everything, perhaps Max's most prominent quality was the way he loved to chase things.

It reminded Gustav of a cat, almost. Strings, mice, shoelaces, strollers. Anything that moved was not immune to Max's pursuit. This is the precise reason Gustav knew he had found the perfect companion that he could have ever wished for. He and Maximilian were an unstoppable force; Gare Montparnass would never quite be the same after they arrived.

_No orphan would ever cause trouble within this station again!_

_She_ was not overly fond of Maximilian, Gustav thought. There really was no proof to back this statement up, besides that she would flinch if he ever approached her with Max trailing behind. Gustav had quickly learned if he were to ever speak with her, to leave Maximilian behind for the moment. Indeed, it made him fell a little guilty as Max would whimper pathetically as he walked away, squeaky knee brace and all. But what had to be done had to be done. If anyone knew this, it was Gustav Dasté.

Despite their inevitable problems, Maximilian and Gustav were inseparable. And though Gustav grew tired of Maximilian's constant obsessive compulsive disorder involving moving objects, and Maximilian grew tired of being momentarily ditched for a lady who sold flowers, the two would not have it any other way.


End file.
